


Time and Time Again

by The Terror of My Ways (sealandreich)



Series: Winden ’86–’87 [4]
Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealandreich/pseuds/The%20Terror%20of%20My%20Ways
Summary: H.G. Tannhaus knows about time travel. He’s never done it himself, but he’s encountered time-travelers before. He even built a time machine. Helge Doppler knows about time travel. He has experienced it several times. He wishes he knew nothing of time travel. Michael Kahnwald, né Mikkel Nielsen, knows about time travel too. He knows that something happened to him, something that tore him away from the life he knew and the people he loved.H.G. Tannhaus, Helge Doppler, and Michael Kahnwald talk about time and attempt to gain a clearer understanding of the situation.
Relationships: Helge Doppler & H.G. Tannhaus, Helge Doppler & Michael Kahnwald | Mikkel Nielsen, Michael Kahnwald | Mikkel Nielsen & H.G. Tannhaus
Series: Winden ’86–’87 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001136
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6
Collections: Doppler-Tannhaus Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I built up to a conversation about time travel between H.G. Tannhaus, Helge, and Michael in another fanfic of mine, only to later realize that it would be better to separate this storyline from that fic. Helge talks to H.G. Tannhaus in parts of Chapters 8, 9, and 10 of “Almost Everything Is Complicated.” It is Part 2 of this Winden ’86-’87 series.
> 
> If you would prefer not to read that, I’ll summarize it: Helge wants to time travel. He talks to HG, who realizes that Helge wants to time travel. HG asks Helge to explain himself, and Helge relates how he time traveled in 1953 and 1954. He mentions Noah and a boy named Mikkel, a boy from another time that Noah wanted to keep in 1986.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H.G. Tannhaus reaches out to Michael. Michael goes to the clock shop for answers.

* * *

HG took the time machine off the shelf and put it on the table. He failed to notice a suspicious lack of dust on the machine, a sure sign that even though he had left the machine alone, Charlotte hadn’t. HG wondered if he should let Helge or Michael know about it. He didn’t want to get their hopes up, but at the same time, it would be best if they were all honest with each other. He tried not to worry about today. There was no guarantee that Michael Kahnwald would show up. HG didn’t know what to hope for: that Michael would show up today or that he wouldn’t. He had never dealt with a situation like this. It was a good thing that he had given the envelope to Charlotte; she wouldn’t hesitate to give it to Michael since she didn’t know what it would set in motion.

* * *

“Michael, this is for you,” Charlotte said, handing Michael an envelope. “My grandpa told me to give it to you.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Michael said, confused. “Thanks.” He didn’t have time to read it, since school was about to start, so Michael put the envelope in his backpack.

Charlotte was mildly curious about the envelope. She didn’t know why her grandpa would ask her to deliver a letter to Michael specifically, and she didn’t know why he couldn’t simply mail it. But HG’s instructions had been specific: make sure the letter ends up in Michael’s hands, do not give it to anyone else to pass on to Michael, and make sure Michael reads it.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” she said.

“Class is gonna start soon,” Michael said. “I’ll read it later.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said. “I think it’s important.”

“Got it,” said Michael, heading to his first class.

* * *

Michael opened the envelope after school, and his heart nearly stopped. The envelope contained a photo of his father’s phone. The lock screen was the Nielsen family photo from 2019. Michael didn’t care that he only had a photo of a phone screen. He could see the faces well enough. It had been nearly a year since he and Jonas went through the caves. Ulrich and Katharina looked so happy to Michael compared to the Ulrich and Katharina of the ’80s. Magnus and Martha looked happy. And Mikkel, the baby of the family, looked happy. It felt so unreal to Michael, as if he wasn’t looking at a picture of himself.

Michael was getting teary-eyed. He felt like he couldn’t go home like this. Ines would know that something was wrong. She’d ask and ask until she had an answer. And Michael wondered what Ines would do if she saw the photo, the proof that he came from the future. There was the risk that she would get rid of it and tell him not to dwell on the past. Michael couldn’t risk it. Then he noticed a note in the envelope that he had overlooked. It had an address on it, the address of H.G. Tannhaus’s clock shop. There was nothing else.

* * *

Michael walked into the clock shop, holding the photo that had been sent to him. He walked to the back, where Helge and HG were talking.

“Hello,” said HG.

“How did you get this?” Michael said, waving the photo around. He didn’t care for politeness at this moment; he wanted answers. “Where did you get it? How do you know who I am? What do you know?”

“First, tell us what name we should call you. I’m H.G. Tannhaus, by the way, and that’s Helge Doppler.”

Michael didn’t know if he’d rather be called Michael or Mikkel. Nobody called him Mikkel anymore. He wasn’t Mikkel anymore, yet he would always be Mikkel—the same Mikkel, the same Michael, the same person. But the name Mikkel now felt so personal, like a secret that only a few knew. And the thought of the Michael Kahnwald of 2019—it left Michael half in hope, half in despair.

“My legal name is Michael Kahnwald now,” he finally said. He gestured to Helge. “Are you busy right now? I can come back later.”

“No, no, I’ll leave if you don’t want me here,” said Helge. He wanted to escape this room. He was nearly overwhelmed by fear. Fear was trying to suffocate him. Helge was drowning in his fear. Fear was trying to kill him, and Helge could never escape from it.

“No, I’m not busy,” said Tannhaus. “And both of you should be part of this conversation.”

“Alright,” Michael said, finding a chair. He felt uneasy about this. He was afraid, but why should he be afraid? This wasn’t blackmail material. It wasn’t believable.

Tannhaus and Helge looked at each other, expecting the other to begin the conversation. After an uncomfortable silence, Helge said, “Time travel. It’s real. I’ve time traveled. You’ve time traveled. Tannhaus hasn’t time traveled, but he built a time machine. It’s real.”

“Could it take me to the day before Jonas took me through the caves?” Michael asked. He hadn’t figured out if he should try to go back or if he should stay behind for his father’s sake, for the sake of that pitiful old man. But Michael thought he should know his options.

HG quickly clarified. “I gave that machine away to a time-traveler.” Finding it strange that Michael had mentioned an individual named Jonas in this context, HG divulged another detail. “He said his name was Jonas.”

“Jonas Kahnwald?” Helge said. He recognized that name: it was the boy Noah had him ambush by Michael’s bedside, the same boy that had reached out to Helge in the bunker so long ago.

“Yes, do you know what happened to him?” Michael said.

“He tried to bring you back,” Helge said. He knew this was a terrible place to start talking, since there were so many things that he wasn’t ready to explain, but he felt like Michael deserved to know that someone had tried to bring him back.

“What?” Michael said, eyes wide with surprise.

“He got as far as your hospital bed,” Helge said. His voice shook. He had said too much.

“What happened to him?” Michael asked. When Helge didn’t answer, Michael repeated it louder. “What happened to him? Where is Jonas?” Michael barely gave himself any time to process this information. He needed answers.

“He was sent to another time,” Helge said, talking fast from fear. “There was a wormhole in the bunker. I don’t know what time he ended up in. But he wasn’t in the ’80s and he wasn’t in the ’50s when I returned.”

“How do you know this?” said Michael. He had a terrible feeling that Helge was involved in sending Jonas to another time. He did not trust Helge.

“I don’t know,” said Helge, panicking. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything anymore.” He looked at HG, hoping he would save him. “Tannhaus!” he cried.

“This isn’t the best of places to start explaining things,” HG said, trying to be diplomatic. Helge had panicked, and he might not say another word to Michael. And getting a better understanding of this situation would be very difficult if Helge and Michael refused to talk to each other.

“I want answers,” Michael said. He was getting very frustrated. “You two know something that I don’t. Why lure me here with this?” He waved the photo around in the air again for emphasis. “I don’t want to play games with you. I don’t know if you think of time travel as nothing but a silly sci-fi concept, but it’s much more serious to me.”

“We all want answers,” HG said.

HG was wrong about that, but he didn’t know it. Helge wasn’t interested in answers. No, what Helge Doppler wanted more than anything else was absolution. But he knew HG and Michael were not the people to go to if he was hoping to be absolved of his deeds.

“Helge, I’m going to start with November 1953,” HG said. “Is that okay with you?”

“I think so. Maybe. Where’s the telephone? I want to call Peter.”

“Helge, be realistic,” HG said. “We can’t have Peter here sitting next to you and holding your hand while we discuss time travel. Or rather, while we attempt to discuss time travel.”

Defeated and dejected, Helge sank back down into his chair.

“If all of us want answers, then that means none of us have the answers,” Michael said. “What—what’s the point of this? Why bait me like this? A time machine, Jonas Kahnwald, a picture of my family! What are you trying to do to me?”  
  
Helge looked like he might cry, and so did Michael.

HG said, “Should we continue in our attempt to discuss matters of time travel, or do you want to call it a day?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael thinks about the time-traveler that H.G. Tannhaus described, the one that called himself Jonas. Helge prays that nobody asks him about 1953.

Helge decided that he wouldn’t leave until he had somebody, preferably his son, Peter, to walk home with him. So far Helge hadn’t said anything that was too revealing, and so far he hadn’t panicked. But he didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’m not leaving till you tell me where you got this photo,” Michael said.

“That is actually simple to explain, relatively speaking,” said HG. “A very disoriented man came into my shop one day in November of 1953. He asked me, ‘What year is it?’ When he left, he forgot to take his jacket with him, and in the pockets I found that device.”

“His phone,” Michael said.

HG and Helge were fascinated.

“A phone? A mobile phone? That’s what that is?” HG said.

“Incredible,” Helge said. “Have you seen what we call mobile phones?”

“Those have been invented already?” said Michael.

“Yes—in ’73, I believe,” said HG. “Some are the size of a brick. Others look more like radios.”

“They’re mostly the toys of people that want to show that they can afford to waste money,” Helge said.

“What, uh, what happened to my father’s phone?” Michael asked, ready to get back on topic.

Helge shuddered and hoped HG would not mention the reason Ulrich never came back to pick up his belongings.

“Oh, it worked with the time machine,” HG said. “It sent a sort of signal to it. I didn’t know if that device even had another use.”

“Did you give that away too?”

“I did, yes, and I apologize. It wasn’t mine to give away.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for taking a picture of it and giving the picture to me,” Michael said. 

Helge said nothing more. He thought of the picture in the newspaper of the nameless man with the stone. He had read the articles about his own disappearance many, many times, trying to understand why.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” HG asked. The conversation in the room had died.

Helge shook his head, prayed that the crimes of 1953 wouldn’t be discussed, and focused on the ticking of the clocks. It had been a calming sound to Helge once, back in the days he had believed that he had been chosen by time. But since November 1986, the ticking of the clocks was less certain to calm him. It was less certain like everything else in his life since then. 

“Tell me about the Jonas you gave your time machine to,” said Michael. “What did he look like?”

He did not ask about his father’s fate. Michael had been told that Ulrich was a madman that belonged in a mental institution, which is where he had been since the 1950s. Michael thought he knew what happened back in 1953. Ulrich must have ranted and raved about time travel, among other things, which caused people to mistake him for a madman. Michael wondered if that might happen to him if he didn’t keep his mouth shut about time travel when he should.

“This time-traveler was about Helge’s age,” HG said. “A few years older, I think. He wore a dark coat, had brown hair and brown eyes, and had a scruffy appearance overall.”

HG continued talking about the time-traveler and how they had discussed matters of philosophy as well as the theories outlined in _A Journey Through Time_. But Michael was barely paying attention to him now. He was thinking about Jonas Kahnwald.

The Jonas described by HG did not sound like the Jonas Kahnwald Michael had known. But who else could the time-traveler be? What were the odds of another time-traveler in Winden named Jonas? Michael wondered if Jonas might have worn a wig. Maybe he did not want to be recognized. But then, if that Jonas was Jonas Kahnwald, that meant Jonas was able to time travel now, unless Jonas had ended up in the 1950s after all. Why didn’t he come for Michael and bring him back? Had he given up? Perhaps Jonas had kept trying until years and years had passed. Michael couldn’t really fault Jonas for giving up if that was the case. Perhaps Jonas’s memories of Mikkel and 2019 had dimmed and dimmed till there was nothing left but darkness.

* * *

Charlotte and Peter stood outside. Both of them had gotten several scrapes, and Peter had skinned an elbow, but neither of them were bleeding. Charlotte opened the door.

“Oh, hello,” Charlotte said, surprised to see Helge and Michael there in the clock shop.

“Peter?” Helge said. “Can you take me home?”

“Sure,” Peter said. Still standing outside the door, he turned slightly. “Hello, I don’t think I’ve met you yet. I’m Peter.”

It took Michael a second to realize that Peter was talking to him. “Hi, I’m Michael,” he said.

Nobody moved for a second or two.

“Oh, I can’t come in,” Peter said. “See, look at these.” He tried to lift up his leg enough to show off the wheels he’d strapped to his shoe. Instead, his foot on the ground rolled backwards and Peter quickly grabbed on to the doorknob to prevent himself from falling or rolling away.

“In-line skates,” Charlotte said, taking hers off. “Well, an experimental version of those.” She held her skates up. “See?”

“Oh, like rollerblades,” Michael said. “Those are fun.”

“Roller-blades? That’s a funny name for them,” Peter said. “Anyway, I can’t really take these off ’cause they came off several times already, and I really don’t want to go through the trouble again for just a few seconds.”

“Are those safe?” Helge asked, getting up to leave.

Charlotte and Peter looked at each other and smiled. They decided against mentioning that they didn’t know how to brake. Colliding into walls or falling still worked, even if those were imperfect methods.

HG shook his head and sighed, but secretly he found it amusing. Now, if those two cracked their skulls open, then HG would not find it remotely amusing, but hopefully they had more sense than that.

When Helge got outside, Peter said, “Hey, can I hold on to you?”

“You’re going to skate home?”

“I’m going to try.”

Helge cast an apprehensive glance behind him at HG and Michael. He sighed. “Would I be carrying most of your weight?”

“No, no, I’d just be holding on to your arm, like this. See?”

“Okay,” Helge said nervously. 

Peter and Helge went on their way, and the sight of Peter holding on to his father’s arm and skating caused a memory to come back to Michael: ice-skating with his family several years ago. He was clinging to the wall of the rink with one hand, and holding on to Katharina for dear life with the other. With his left hand, Ulrich held Magnus’s hand, and with his right, he held Martha’s hand. They skated by—well, Ulrich did all the skating for them. Then Ulrich smiled and told them to let go of his hands for one second. Magnus and Martha were both scared, but they let go of Ulrich for a second. Ulrich spun around so that he faced them and offered a hand to each. And then their father did the coolest thing imaginable! He skated backwards! 

The day hadn’t gone well for Michael. He didn’t like talking with these two strangers that knew things Michael didn’t and wouldn’t tell him. He had considered never coming back to the clock shop, but the memory of his family—now that it was fresh in his mind rather than a distant, fading dream—made Michael reconsider. He’d come back to the clock shop after all.

* * *

That night Michael Kahnwald dreamed of Jonas wandering through the caves. His dreams, if he dreamed at all, were tame now. He no longer dreaded sleep and the nightmares it brought. Michael was smart. He had picked up on the correlation between hot chocolate and getting a good night’s sleep. The difference had been drastic at first. He went from nightmares that kept him up at night to peaceful sleep. It restored his energy instead of draining him further. In the back of his mind, he remembered how Martha had explained the placebo effect to him once. Since he thought it would be ruined if he consciously acknowledged that it was just the placebo effect, Michael told himself that there was something in the hot chocolate, something real that helped him sleep at night.

In his dream, Jonas wandered through the caves, day after day, shouting for Mikkel. Where had Jonas ended up? Michael hoped that he had gotten back to 2019 somehow—at least one of them would be with their friends and family. If not, hopefully Jonas had someone like Ines to take care of him and comfort him.

Day after day, year after year, Jonas continued to wander. He no longer said any names. Had he forgotten his purpose? Jonas only mindlessly stumbled through the caves, day after day, year after year.

Michael was not the only Windener to dream that night. HG had a dream in which Charlotte managed to open a wormhole in the living room with the old, broken time machine. Dead birds fell out of the wormhole. 

Helge had the same nightmares as usual: Noah, the children, the chair, the bunker. The thoughts and the madness returned. Why, why did he still have his eyes, his useless eyes? Why had they not been burned out long ago? His eyes, his eyes, his useless eyes! Eyes to see his sins, eyes to see the pain, eyes to look upon his crimes, eyes to see his own despair! What need did he have for sight? What was there left to look at? The chair, the chair—Helge should have been the body in the chair. Helge should have been the nameless corpse with the eyes burned out. The chair, the chair, it was gone—but the bunker remained. Helge remained. He did not deserve to remain. The wrath of the Lord would strike him down—unless it was worse to remain. Was this his damnation? No, no—Helge told himself to think of his son. He tried to say it too, hoping to be brought out of his terror: “Think of your son, Helge, think of Peter! Think of life!” His son, not damnation—and then he saw Peter’s corpse, eyes burned out, lost in another time.

Katharina Albers dreamed of nothing too important. In her dream, there was a surprise exam in her math class. As everyone else started the test, Katharina discovered that she had no pencils or pens on hand. She rifled through her bag only to find nothing of use. The teacher announced that they had thirty minutes left. Katharina tried to think of anything she could write with. The teacher announced that there were only ten minutes left. Cursing under her breath, Katharina took out her lipstick and attempted to write with it.

Katharina Albers Nielsen did not dream. Her body continued to decay at the bottom of the lake.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to write a fanfic from a third person omniscient point of view rather than third person limited. It’s been interesting.


End file.
